He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. You need give yourself no more concern about Kneebone. She was pensive and thoughtful. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. “What a little brick!” he murmured.
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